


All or Nothing

by EclecticRegard



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: First Kiss, Fist Fights, M/M, Post-Canon, Power Outage, Pre-Relationship, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 04:24:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4691993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclecticRegard/pseuds/EclecticRegard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite the fact that they were on a surveillance job, it was almost -- well, disgustingly domestic had crossed Napoleon's mind once or twice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All or Nothing

Months after Istanbul found Napoleon and Illya in a safe house in Canada for surveillance. It wasn't the most interesting of assignments, but after Waverly had U.N.C.L.E. working nonstop since it had been formed, Gaby had insisted on a break of sorts. She was sent to England to run a simple op with Waverly -- something about counterfeit art or whatever -- while Napoleon and Illya were sent to a cabin practically in the middle of nowhere to keep an eye on a potential bad deal going on just down the mountain from where they were. It wouldn't have been so bad if it weren't the middle of winter and if they had more to do than listen and watch. Illya played chess and Napoleon read in the interim, but after a few days even those tasks were boring them. Napoleon had once suggested they go outside after it had begun to snow, but that only earned him a look from Illya that told him it would be a cold day in Hell before the Russian would play in the snow with his partner.

Despite the fact that they were on a surveillance job, it was almost -- well,  _disgustingly domestic_  had crossed Napoleon's mind once or twice. They ate the meals that Napoleon made -- though Illya was usually up first to make the coffee each morning --, watched their target, read, played chess, and went to bed. There was nobody for him to charm or trick, aside from his partner. However, Illya would probably snap his neck if Napoleon decided to amuse himself by targeting him. 

The job was set to end in the next day or two once they received final confirmation from Waverly. Napoleon was practically vibrating with unspent energy at that point and, to his credit, Illya had kept his cool and even engaged in friendly conversation with him upon occasion.

And then things went even further south for them.

It was about midnight when Napoleon woke to the sensation of being utterly frozen to the bone. For a moment he wondered if Illya had taken his blankets, but a quick grope around told him that wasn't true. He sat up, spotting a faint light coming from the living room. As he let out a sigh, trying to decide if it was worth getting out of bed to investigate, he could see his breath in the air.

_Shit._

As he worked to quickly dress himself in the warmest clothes he could find (and thank god he had an extra sweater and thick socks, courtesy of Gaby), he heard rustling in the living room. There was a soft crackling, followed by heavy footsteps that were coming towards the bedroom. Napoleon had just wrapped the blanket back around his shoulders when Illya stepped into the doorway.

"Who killed the electricity?" Napoleon asked, hugging the blanket close.

"Oh, good, you're awake. Now I don't have to carry you," Illya said in lieu of a response. He held out a hand, beckoning his partner. "Come, Cowboy, it is warmer in the living room." 

Illya didn't wait for Napoleon to even stand before he returned to stroke the fire, trusting Napoleon to follow him. Napoleon walked carefully so as not to risk his blanket opening up around him and letting in any more cold air. Illya was still crouched down in front of the fire place, his broad back to Napoleon as he sat down. Once he was satisfied that the fire would keep burning strong, Illya went to join the man on the couch, settling under his own blanket.  
  
"How long have you been awake?" Napoleon asked after a long stretch of silence had fallen between them.  
  
"Not long. Enough to put on more layers before making a fire."  
  
He grinned. "Were you really going to carry me out here?"  
  
Illya's cheeks, already pink from the cold, darkened a bit more. "I would not want to disturb you, nor would I want you to freeze to death."  
  
"Aw, you really  _do_ care, Peril! Wait 'til I tell Gaby; she'll be so proud of how much you've grown up."

"Do not make me regret my decision, Cowboy."

"Not at all. It's a very nice fire, by the way. Thanks."

Silence followed again as both men appeared content with watching the fire crackle and dance. It was warming up, certainly, but it was a far cry from how warm it had been before the power went out. As it were, Napoleon was still shivering and mentally grumbling at Illya for not shivering right along with him. A few more minutes passed by just like that, right up until Illya heaved the biggest sigh Napoleon had ever heard from him (alright, so it wasn't that big, but hearing any noise of complaint from the Russian about their living conditions was a rare treat that Napoleon always enjoyed; it was nice to have proof that his partner was at least slightly human). 

An arm reached around the slighter man's shoulders and tugged until Napoleon was sitting pressed up against Illya. Keeping his arm around the American's shoulders, he reached down and opened his blanket, tucking it around his partner. "There. No more complaining."  
  
"I didn't  _say_ anything. But now that I am, how are you not freezing??"  
  
"I am cold," Illya argued, "I just do not make big deal out of it."  
  
Napoleon glanced at him, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Tell me out right, okay, Peril? You're part polar bear, aren't you."  
  
That earned him a huff and an eye roll. "I am not a baby, Cowboy, is all."  
  
"How am I a--"  
  
"Just--!" Illya began, glaring down at Napoleon. He took in a deep breath, visibly calming down before he continued. "Shut up and go to sleep. It is warmer now."  
  
"Alright, but we're continuing this conversation tomorrow," Napoleon threatened, curling up under the blanket and pressing more into Illya. He yawned, eyelids already feeling heavy again. "Because if you are more than human, I need your secrets."  
  
Illya snorted softly, his grip tightening. "I will give you my secrets if you give me yours."  
  
"Deal."

 

~  ~

 

Napoleon woke up well after sunrise to find that Illya was attempting to make breakfast over the fire, which he had obviously been tending to throughout the night. He held a tea kettle in one hand, out away from his body and as close to the flame as he could manage. When he heard the other man stirring and grumbling about the bright sun shining in unapologetically, he looked over his shoulder.  
  
"No coffee today, Cowboy. Only oatmeal."  
  
Napoleon fell onto his side on the couch, just where Illya had been sitting beside him, and groaned pathetically. "You might as well just kill me now, Peril."  
  
"Don't be dramatic. Hot food will wake you up just as well as coffee. Perhaps then we can see if we can fix the electricity ourselves."  
  
"You're so rational in the mornings; I hate it."  
  
Illya smirked. "I take that as a compliment from you for some reason."  
  
"Then you're as annoying as you are pretty." At the look Illya gave him, Napoleon shrugged. "What? Gaby calls you pretty all the time. Although, come to think of it, it's always just to me and whenever you're not around... Not that I disagree."  
  
He turned back to the fire, but not before Napoleon spotted his darkened cheeks again. "Stop running your mouth; you are letting out important hot air from your brain." When a laugh was the only response, Illya relaxed.

After eating the plain oatmeal ("I've lost all faith in you, Peril." "Either eat on your own or drink it through a straw, Cowboy."), they took a quick look down to the cabin where their target was staying. With a heavy sigh, Illya informed Napoleon that the power was out down the mountain as well, which meant there was no point in trying to fix their own electricity. They stared at one another for a few quiet moments before Napoleon declared they would have a chess tournament until either their fingers froze off or Napoleon won a match. With a snort, Illya went to move the chess set to the coffee table by the fireplace. 

Their stomachs were growling by the time Napoleon finally gave up. 

"Do not feel too bad. I did not expect to lose to an American, and I was correct."  
  
Napoleon flicked his queen down with a bit more force than necessary, sending the piece skirting across the table. "You're so unnecessarily cocky."  
  
"It is not my fault you are sore loser. You have many talents, as much as it pains me to admit. I am not surprised you are a terrible chess player."  
  
He stared at Illya for a few moments before reaching over to pick up his breakfast bowl. There was still a little oatmeal left, which he scraped up with the spoon. He turned it so that the cold oatmeal was aimed at Illya, ready to fire at him.  
  
Illya glared. "Don't you dare, Cowboy."  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry, am I irritating you, Peril?" Napoleon smiled sweetly.  
  
"I swear to god, if you shoot that at me, I'll --"

"Yes, yes, of course. Gaby told me all about your idle threats." He waved a dismissive hand. "Really, Peril, you need to learn how to relax."  
  
As soon as Illya opened his mouth to reply, Napoleon fired the oatmeal at him. A bit got into his mouth, but the majority was caught just above his left eyebrow. Before even Illya could react, Napoleon had leapt over the back of the couch, abandoning his blanket as he bolted up the stairs to the loft.

Illya was right on his heels, all but snarling as he spit out the oatmeal. "Get back here, Solo!"  
  
It was quite the anticlimactic chase, to be perfectly honest, Within moments, Illya had Napoleon literally backed into a corner. Although his expression was bordering on almost fear, Napoleon's eyes were dancing with glee. Finally, after so long, there was some  _action_. 

Illya swung at Napoleon, catching him on his jaw as he moved, rather than hitting his square in the nose. He let out a groan, knowing it was going to be an ugly bruise, before he leapt forward to tackle the larger man. They fell together, painfully crashing to the ground as they wrestled. Illya grabbed Napoleon's shirt collar and punched him again, this time hitting him in the nose. He drew his fist back to hit him again, a bit of blood coating his knuckles. Napoleon took the chance to swing at him, knocking Illya's head to the side as his fist connected with his jaw. His grip loosened and Napoleon took that as an opportunity to escape. He was almost out of reach when Illya caught him by the leg and yanked him back towards him. He trapped the American beneath him by placing a knee on his back and catching his dark hair with one hand. Napoleon struggled beneath his weight, coughing as he reached back and tried to loosen Illya's grip on his hair. Illya kept him down with ease, a wicked grin on his face as Napoleon groaned and squirmed under him. Illya lifted his weight, just a bit, so as not to cause any permanent damage to his captive.  
  
Napoleon's struggling suddenly halted when Illya brought his hand down to sharply smack him on the ass, not once but five times. He struck each cheek twice and then once in the middle. The sound filled the air and  _damn_ if it didn't hurt like hell. Napoleon remained still after Illya stopped, waiting for what the Russian might do next.   
  
The grip in his hair loosened, replaced by nearly apologetic petting. "Are you going to stop behaving like a child, Napoleon, or do you need a longer lesson?"  
  
"Knee," was all Napoleon could manage to say. With two more sharp smacks to his ass, he felt the pressure lifting completely from his back. Napoleon quickly rolled onto his back before Illya could get any more ideas and glared up at the man, who was clearly pleased with himself.  
  
"Gaby may have warned you, but she is also much better at defending herself than you are."  
  
"Asshole."  
  
"Says the one who flung oatmeal at me when he couldn't win a simple game of chess," Illya said with an amused huff, pushing himself to his feet. He held a hand out to Napoleon, who let himself be helped to his own feet. He kept Napoleon's hand firmly in his own as he started back down the stairs. "Let's get you back downstairs before you freeze again, Cowboy."   
  
He tucked Napoleon back under his blankets, ignoring the heated glare aimed at him as he went to add more wood to the fire. When he had finished stoking flames again, he turned to find that Napoleon was still glaring at him.  
  
"Come now. You won't pout all day, will you?" he asked with a sigh, going to sit beside him again.  
  
In spite of himself, Napoleon curled up into the added warmth the other man provided. "Depends on how long my ass keeps stinging, really."  
  
"I barely spanked you, Napoleon."  
  
"Tell that to my abused ass."  
  
"What, would you like me to kiss it better?" he teased.

"Among other things," Napoleon muttered.  
  
Illya studied him for a few moments, then turned to lay back with his head on the arm of the couch. He lifted his legs, one over Napoleon's head, before all but trapping the man. "Lay down with me, on your stomach if you like."  
  
He stared, incredulous, as the Russian watched him expectantly, as though cuddling with a man on the couch was something of a daily occurrence where he was from. When it became clear that it wasn't a joke, Napoleon slowly lowered himself down onto his stomach, still somewhat settled between Illya's legs as he laid his head to rest beneath Illya's chin. Illya grabbed the blanket he had discarded on the floor earlier and placed it over them. One hand reached down to settle at the small of Napoleon's back, while the other carded into his hair.  
  
"You are so malleable, Napoleon."  
  
"Blame the cold," he grumbled.  
  
He heard the soft chuckle rumble in Illya's chest. The hand at the small of his back reached down and slowly began to rub his smarting ass. "I will teach you to play better."  
  
"No, thanks. I'd rather have as many excuses for pelting you with leftovers as possible."  
  
"I do not expect that to happen again."  
  
"Prepare to be surprised, Illya." 

 

~  ~

 

They didn't talk about the two days they were without electricity for almost a month afterwards, other than to inform Waverly and Gaby that there had been a power outage during their surveillance job. They were back in a hotel by that point, in Paris to be precise, and the two found themselves sharing a suite with Gaby one floor above them in her own smaller suite. She had been beyond thrilled that she didn't have to pretend to belong to either of them, as a fiance or otherwise, for their current assignment and left them after a day's work with a joke about hoping they didn't lose electricity again.

Illya settled down on the couch with his chess set, intent on playing alone until he felt tired. Napoleon, meanwhile, decided to avail himself of the contents of the bar, pouring himself a glass of scotch. He joined Illya on the couch, setting down an extra glass and the remainder of the bottle.   
  
"No, thank you," Illya said absently, barely glancing at Napoleon when he sat down.   
  
Napoleon shrugged and refilled his own glass. "So. You've been acting weird. Weirder than usual, I mean. Did Gaby try to teach you how to dance again?"  
  
"No, she did not. Nothing is 'weird' about me."  
  
"Uh, it definitely is. It's almost like you're avoiding having a real conversation with me. Sure, we discuss work, but I could've sworn you looked like the world was about to end when we were told we'd be sharing a suite for this op."  
  
"I did not look like that."  
  
"You really did. You've been pretty careful to not be alone with me since that surveillance job up in Canada, actually."

"That is because I want to avoid being attacked by breakfast foods again."  
  
Napoleon snorted. "More like you're still embarrassed at all the unmanly cuddling and ass petting you did up there."  
  
Illya slammed down one of his pawns, shooting a glare at Napoleon. "We were freezing and you were hurting."  
  
"Need I remind you who hurt me in the first place?"  
  
"Need  _I_ remind you what acting like a petulant child will earn you?" Illya shot back.  
  
Napoleon slunk back into the couch with a sigh. He set his glass on the table and leveled Illya with an unamused glance. "Punishing me for pointing out the obvious to you won't get you anywhere. In fact, now that I'm no longer freezing half to death, it'd probably earn you a broken nose."   
  
Illya grunting, giving him a humorless smirk as he began packing up his game pieces. "I do not have the energy for your foolishness tonight, Cowboy." 

"It's not foolishness," came the softer reply. "I just don't want things to change because you're a moron who gets embarrassed over being nice."  
  
"Nothing has changed."  
  
"No?" Napoleon sat up straight again and scooted closer, lifting a hand to brush against Illya's cheek. "Sure seems like it to me."  
  
Illya's hand covered Napoleon's as he turned to stare at him. Napoleon closed the remaining gap between them, placing a gentle kiss on his partner's lips.  
  
Once the initial shock wore off, Illya took note of how uncharacteristically soft Napoleon's lips were against his. He didn't push for anything beyond a peck, though he did lick Napoleon's bottom lip before pulling away.  
  
" _Now_ things have changed, Cowboy."  
  
"I don't mind so much this time," Napoleon said with a grin. "Do you?"  
  
"... No," he replied honestly.  
  
"Good. Because I thought I'd misread last week when you snuck into my hotel to kiss me on the forehead."  
  
Illya's cheeks turned a brilliant red. "I did not think you were awake."  
  
"I know. But now you can stop feeling guilty." He shifted himself, placing his hands on Illya's shoulders as he moved to straddle his lap. "I almost wish we were back up at that cabin."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"It'd give us a sexy as hell story. Hooking up just to keep from freezing to death?" Napoleon ground his hips down against Illya.  
  
He grunted and grabbed Napoleon's hips to stop him, firmly meeting his gaze. "I am not a 'hooking up' conquest for you, Napoleon. I am all or nothing."  
  
Napoleon stared at him, silent for so long that Illya began to shift uncomfortably beneath his gaze. He had been just about to shove Napoleon off when the American chuckled and leaned closer to kiss below Illya's left earlobe.   
  
"'All' it is, then, Peril."


End file.
